Plenty of Time
by Mrs. Singing Violin
Summary: An alternate ending to the episode "The View from the Rear Terrace." Also, an attempt to explain why Kate Monday disappeared after three seasons and was replaced by Pat Tuesday.


Title: Plenty of Time  
Rating: K  
Author: Singing Violin  
Series: Mathnet  
Summary: An alternate ending to the episode "The View from the Rear Terrace." Also, an attempt to explain why Kate Monday disappeared after three seasons and was replaced by Pat Tuesday.  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mathnet characters or Square One TV. If I did, they'd be out on DVD, BlueRay, and available on Netflix. As it was, I found the episodes (pretty poor quality, but all there) on Youtube, where someone had lovingly and painstakingly tracked down every episode and set a playlist in order. Huge thank you to OneWeirdDude for compiling the series, and to TVLubber for posting the particular episode this fic is based upon.

"Plenty of time, Pard."

Looking at the clock, George realized he'd disarmed the bomb with no time to spare, belying his words to Kate. Stunned, he sank into a chair and suddenly realized he was sitting on something big and stuffed. Pulling out the bunny, he threw it at Kate, and they both began to laugh with relief.

Her laughter, however, soon turned to tears.

George raced over to her and suddenly realized she was still all tied up. Gently, he knelt before her wheelchair, untied her, and took her into his arms awkwardly as her cast proved a considerable obstacle. After some adjustment, he found himself sitting on his partner's floor, with her cradled in his lap, soaking his Mathnet jacket with her tears.

He patted her back. "Kate, it's okay. We're alive, it's okay."

She pulled back slightly in order to look into his eyes, and took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. "It's not. I argued with you. If I had just listened and done what you said..."

He shook his head. "We made it. That's all that counts, right?"

It was Kate's turn to shake her head. "Next time we might not be so lucky."

George contemplated that for a moment. "I wonder what the odds are of disarming a bomb with exactly one second to spare. You know, I'm guessing they're close to a hundred percent on television, when the lives of the main characters are at stake."

Finally she was smiling again. "Oh George, you always know how to make me laugh. I wish..."

Her voice trailed off then, and she stiffened, seeming to suddenly realize the compromising position she was in. Unfortunately, her lame leg prevented her from rising, but she attempted to pull away further.

George got the hint, rose from the floor, and helped her back into her chair, then grabbed hold of her shoulder. "You wish what, Kate?"

"Never mind," she said regretfully.

"No, Kate, what is it? You can tell me. I just saved your life; I think you owe me the truth."

She nodded. "All right. I wish you weren't married."

He sighed, withdrawing his hand from her shoulder and turning around so he didn't have to face her while making his admission. "I'm not married, Kate."

She blinked. "What about Martha? Who is she?"

He turned back around to face Kate, but hesitated before he spoke. "Well, since we almost died together, and might die together next time, as you so aptly put it, and since you just told me the truth, I suppose I ought to tell you the truth as well." He didn't continue directly.

"Which is?" she prompted curiously.

He walked back to the chair he'd been sitting in earlier and sat back in it, clasping his hands in his lap and looking down at them. "Martha is a figment of my imagination, a little game I've played to make people not think I'm a loser. I guess I just figured that as a math nerd, I wasn't likely to ever get married, but that people would respect me more if I were married, so I just...made her up."

Kate's mouth was hanging open now, and it seemed inevitable that the truth of her feelings would wander out on its own accord. "I just told you I loved working with you, George. What I really meant to say was that I love _you_. I didn't say it because you were married. But if you're not married..."

He sighed again and looked up at her, searching her eyes for clues as to her mental state. "Kate, you've just been through a terrible ordeal. You don't know what you're saying. Besides, you've got to be angry that I've been lying to you about this."

Her eyes implored his. "I'm not angry...I understand. Don't forget, I'm a math nerd too. And I do know what I'm saying. I don't care that you didn't believe me when I told you that Raymond was building bombs. I don't care that you ignore me sometimes, and that you argue with me sometimes. And I certainly don't care that you have a fictional wife...in fact, I think it's adorable. You came here and risked your life to save mine, and besides, I think I fell in love with you a long time ago, maybe even our first case together. I love your mind, I love your persistence, and I love the fact that you care so much about your work...and about me."

He gulped. "All right. Let's assume that you're correct in your conclusion that you're in love with me. And let us assume, for a moment, that I'm in love with you too."

She gasped. "Are you?"

"Kate, let's get through this proof and then we can make the alternate assumption, okay? If we find the same conclusions both ways, then it doesn't matter, right?"

She chuckled lightly and shook her head. "Fine, go on."

"Okay, well, we work together. We're partners. Of course I care about you, and you care about me...as would be the case in any good partnership. But love? That would complicate things...wouldn't it? Besides being completely against the rules, a relationship between us would compromise our working partnership."

"George, today I was ready to die...without you. I was confident you would go on with your life and make Mathnet proud. Get a new partner. You still could. I'm willing to transfer to another division, to resign...whatever is necessary. I would never compromise our working relationship; you know that. Anyway, what happens if we take the alternate assumption?"

George nodded. "Assume, for the moment, that I am not in love with you. I suppose that would make things even more complicated, although if you could repress your feelings, perhaps in time they would dissipate..."

His partner interrupted him. "George!"

"What is it, Kate?"

"Are you in love with me, George? Tell me the truth."

He stared at her for a while, then made up his mind. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I think I am. But I also value our working relationship. I love working with you too, Kate. You're the best partner I've ever had. I don't want to lose that."

She nodded hesitantly, but spoke firmly. "All right. How about this? We don't act on our feelings, but continue to work together. If something...develops between us, I'll transfer out of Mathnet. And in the meantime, I'll look for a replacement for myself, just in case. I'll make sure she's really good."

"That sounds fair," he agreed. "And since we're both alive, there's plenty of time."

"Plenty of time, Pard," she echoed, the resonance from his earlier statement reverberating throughout the room.

He spoke again. "But there's one more thing I'd like you to do for me, please."

"Anything!" she remarked. "You just saved my life. I owe you."

"Please, play along with the Martha story," he pleaded. "I don't want everyone to know I made up a wife."

She grinned. "Of course." Then, she opened her arms to him, and he ran to her and hugged her tightly, not sure when the next time he'd get to do that would be. Giving her one last squeeze, he reluctantly pulled away. "If we'd died today, we never would have known."

She sniffled, tears once more trickling down her face. "But we didn't. We made it."

"Yes, we did," he agreed, smiling. "Yes, we did. And now we have plenty of time to enjoy together."

There was an awkward silence before he spoke again, standing up. "I, uh, should probably go file a report. Will you be all right? Do you want me to take your statement so you don't have to talk to the police?"

"I'm not sure what I can say," she answered, evading the question about whether she would be all right, not knowing the answer herself, but not wanting to seem needy by begging George to stay, especially after her admission. "My neighbor was building bombs. He tried to kill me. You saved my life. I'm alive. And please, don't make me say it in rhyming verse. Ever."

"That'll do," he answered. "I'll put it in the report. And for what it's worth, I'm glad you're alive. I'll see you next time."

"You too," she reciprocated, all the while wondering if she could find statistics supporting the survivability of workplace romances, controlling for the effects of near-death experiences...


End file.
